Chrysalis of the Nocturnal Butterfly
by sudsalot
Summary: A very short story that deals with how Rory got her love of books.


_Chrysalis of the Nocturnal Butterfly_

_With apologies to Marianne Moore_

Rory Gilmore could not sleep. She wasn't the kind of insomniac that tossed and turned all night, like a married man, worried that his wife would find out he was having an affair or a college student about to flunk out of Stanford. She was, instead, simply a victim of a child's hyperactive imagination. She'd glance around at night, seeing patterns in the wispy clouds that peeked out from behind the curtains when the moon was full or dragons flying in streaks along the wall as the shadows passed. This had been happening for few months now, but Rory, for some reason, didn't show the effects at all. Maybe it was because at 8 years old she was already a seasoned coffee drinker. Or it could be that she had a metabolism that most people would kill for. Whatever the reason, she lay there, night after night, sometimes listening to her mother's soft breaths coming from the other side of the curtain and floating away to an imaginary land to their cadence.

* * *

One warm summer night, when the crickets were chirping their loudest and Lorelai, exhausted from another day as a maid at the Independence Inn, was sleeping heavily, Rory got out of bed, fully clothed. She crept to the door of the tool shed that she and Lorelai occupied, softly opened the door, and crept outside, free as a butterfly and curious as a kitten. The grounds of the Inn provided nothing of interest; she knew them like the back of her hand. So she decided to take a nocturnal tour of Stars Hollow. It was weird – very dark, very quiet, very peaceful. She passed by Miss Patty's just as the light under the door went out. She peered in the window at Luke's, seeing the chairs upside-down on the table-tops and realizing it must be awfully late. Even Doose's was closed, though Rory knew that was because Taylor didn't trust anyone who needed groceries after 8 pm. He even accused Lorelai of having "the munchies" once, when all she wanted was Pepto-Bismol for Rory's stomach ache. Rory looked at the gazebo, saw nothing of interest, and was about to head home when something caught her eye. Light, in a dark town, was beckoning to her.

* * *

"Well, hello," said the tall stranger near the door when Rory entered. "How are you?" 

"Fine, thank you," said Rory, remembering her mother's instructions to be polite.

"What's your name?"

"Rory Gilmore. What's yours?"

"It's Andrew. Hi, Rory." He held out his hand.

"Hi, Andrew," said Rory. She shook his hand firmly, looking him straight in the eye, just like grandpa taught her.

"What brings you here this evening?" said Andrew.

"Just browsing, thanks," said Rory. "You're open late."

"Sure we are. Sometimes people like to read, late at night, or have coffee or a danish."

"Danish?"

"Yes, we have them right here," said Andrew. He pointed to a few items in a glass case.

"Can I have that lemon danish?" said Rory. She put her right hand in her pocket and extracted twelve cents, which she placed carefully on the counter.

Andrew found it hard to suppress a smile. "Let's see," he said, "a danish is two cents, leaving you with a dime." He took the two pennies off the counter and put them in the register, then served Rory the danish on a plate.

"Thank you," said Rory.

"You're welcome," said Andrew. "And feel free to browse all you want."

"Thank you," said Rory again, and she disappeared into the stacks.

* * *

"I'm sorry, the number you are dialing has been disconnected." 

Andrew put the phone down. _Lorelai must not have paid her phone bill_, he thought. He looked around. There were only 2 customers in the store – a couple of college kids sitting at a table, arguing about free will in a Godless universe. Andrew found Rory, sitting on the floor cross-legged, her face buried in _Winnie the Pooh._ Andrew walked up to the college kids and pointed at his watch. Then he crouched down in front of Rory and tapped the book with the knuckle of his pointing finger.

"Hi, Rory. Are you finished with your danish?"

"Yes," said Rory. "It was very good."

"I'm glad. And I'm sorry to tell you this, but we're closing now."

Rory closed the book and placed it on her lap. "Okay," she said. "Can I come back here tomorrow and read some more?"

"You know," said Andrew, "new customers get their first book free when they buy a danish. Shall I put it in a bag for you?"

"No, thanks," said Rory, her mother's words about not accepting gifts from strangers locked deep in her subconscious. She stood up and quickly walked to the front of the store intending to say good-night.

"Rory, it's kind of late. How about if I walk you home?"

"Sure, I guess," said Rory. "I mean, thank you, Andrew." She smiled at him, revealing a missing front tooth.

Andrew turned off the lights. "Take my hand?" he asked.

Rory reached up and Andrew reached down, and together they walked, hand in hand, back to the Independence Inn.

* * *

"Well, goodnight, Rory," said Andrew as they stood in front of the tool shack. I hope to see you in the bookstore again. Only make it during the day, okay? No more sneaking out late at night. That way we can have more time to talk." 

"I'd like to come back," said Rory. "I like your bookstore, Andrew." And with that, Rory snuck back inside and went to bed where she quickly fell asleep.

* * *

That was, of course, the end of Rory's insomnia. Her curiosity about the world was satisfied as she found another universe altogether – that of books. Andrew had launched a chrysalis into the world that would soon blossom into a nocturnal butterfly, her wings spreading wide to take in all she could absorb through books. And even now, all those years later, Andrew and Rory have a special relationship. No one knows about it but the two of them. A quick smile as they pass each other on the street or a short note with a new book recommendation are the only signs of their special bond. And every year, on the anniversary of Rory's first visit to Andrew's marvelous bookstore, a lemon danish and a brand new copy of _Winnie the Pooh_ mysteriously shows up on the Gilmore's porch. 


End file.
